


that our sons may follow after...

by Medie



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Community: multiverse5000, Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-24
Updated: 2010-02-24
Packaged: 2017-10-07 12:42:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She dreams of her townhouse in flames, wakes up screaming at the feeling of the fire licking at her skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	that our sons may follow after...

**Author's Note:**

> apocafic written for [](http://dirty-diana.livejournal.com/profile)[**dirty_diana**](http://dirty-diana.livejournal.com/) for [](http://community.livejournal.com/multiverse5000/profile)[**multiverse5000**](http://community.livejournal.com/multiverse5000/). Alana King is a creation cooked up by myself and [](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/profile)[**havocthecat**](http://havocthecat.livejournal.com/) for maniacal purposes that are - for now - known only to us. *evils*

~

Elizabeth can almost predict the moment negotiations break down. Across the table, the Canadian ambassador to the IOA gives her a look, a warning, and they both release tiny sighs of frustration. King writes a note, slides it across the table, and the tiny scribble makes Elizabeth's blood run cold.

_The Chinese are stalling for time, something's going on._

When Ambassador Chen isn't looking, she slides the note to her military escort. Mitchell reads it at a glance and frowns across the table at Ambassador King. Alana gives her head a tiny shake, the message obvious. Not here. She taps her glass to get the attention of the others and, when she has it, politely suggests they break for lunch.

Tired from a morning of fruitless bickering, everyone save Chen, readily agrees. Out-voted, she doesn't look happy. There's a hint of worry in her eyes, perhaps even fear and Elizabeth feels a twist of apprehension in her stomach. She rises from her chair with the surety that this is not going to end well. For the first time in a long time, she wishes she had taken the job in Atlantis instead. She thrives in the diplomatic arena, loves wrestling with the IOA on matters relating to the SGC and Atlantis, but sometimes -

Sometimes she wishes she were three galaxies away, and worrying about the next Wraith assault, an enemy she can at least recognize.

"Come on," Mitchell says, touching her arm. "The car's outside, and I know a great little Thai place."

Alana is waiting with her escort when Elizabeth and Mitchell emerge into the sunny Ottawa afternoon. She starts to speak as soon as they near her, "Our people have intelligence – "

She doesn't get the chance to finish the sentence as the building behind her explodes, taking most of the IOA with it. Elizabeth crashes to the ground behind the limo, Mitchell flattening her to the ground beneath him. "Don't move," he warns, voice harsh in her ear.

She nods, and stays where she landed, taking stock of her injuries. Her palms are scraped and bloodied, she can feel blood from a head wound trickling down her cheek, and her knees may never forgive her, but she's alive. Turning her head cautiously, she sees Alana flat on her stomach, her guard kneeling over her.

"Guess we know what they were stalling for," Alana says grimly, sporting injuries of her own. A lurid gash decorates her right cheek in counterpart to the cut opened up above her left eye.

Elizabeth looks back over her shoulder at what's left of the building. It's in flames, and she briefly recalls Alana mentioning the history of the place, added onto the Parliamentary block after a fire. Staring at the ruins, she thinks of Ambassador Chen and shivers.

"We need to get out of here," Mitchell says, as the scream of sirens echoes through the air. The Canadians are reacting to the threat, and beneath the sirens, Elizabeth can hear the yelling of security personnel. She doesn't look up, still caught on something.

She looks over at Alana, "Chen?"

The Canadian lifts her head, smiling grimly when her escort tries to push her back down again. She ignores him and risks looking, "I don't see her."

"Oh my god," Elizabeth murmurs, "if it was her people –"

"They sent her on a suicide mission," Mitchell agrees. He looks over at his Canadian counterpart, they share a conversation, gestures and one word sentences, and then he's pulling Elizabeth up to her feet. "In the car."

Her last glimpse of Alana is a quick-fingered wave as they're both shoved into cars, racing off in separate directions.

~

They're a few blocks from Parliament Hill before it becomes readily apparent – the city is burning. "Son of a bitch," Mitchell mutters, flashing his ID at a harried-looking RCMP officer. "They hit everything."

Elizabeth looks out the window of the car to see a sobbing woman catching a toddler up into her arms, the baby wailing in fright, just before they're guided into a bus. "Why?" she wonders in a choked whisper, watching others following her, each one more shell-shocked than the last. "Why would they attack civilians?"

Her phone rings and they share a look.

"Guess we're about to find out," Mitchell says and follows the Mountie's directions, turning down a side street.

General O'Neill is on the other end of the line, calling from the SGC, and doesn't waste anytime, "You and Mitchell all right?"

"Yes," she says. "Ambassador King survived as well." Her voice catches as she adds, "We were the only ones."

"The whole committee then," O'Neill says bitterly. "Beautiful." He stops and she can hear chaos in the background, Sam Carter's voice calling out for reports and, a dozen other people hollering answers back. "It's not just Ottawa, Doc," he continues after a while. "The Chinese hit D.C., Moscow, Paris, London – we're talking casualties into the hundreds of thousands. No nukes so far, guess we can call that one lucky."

She can hear it in his voice, the certainty that it's only a matter of time before China does. Elizabeth looks at Mitchell and then closes her eyes, "Do we know what they want?"

"Beats the shit out of us," Jack says simply. "Daedalus, Prometheus, Odyssey, control of the Gate, hell, could be a trip to Disneyland to meet Mickey Mouse for all they're telling us." He sighs, "They're letting the explosions do the talking right now."

"Are we listening?" she asks.

"Not a chance in hell," Jack answers, and she can almost see the grin. "President's on the line with the usual suspects and, at the moment, the answer is pretty unanimous. We'll see how it looks when this is over. You keep in touch and keep your head down, got it?"

"Will do," she says.

"Good, now I need to talk to Mitchell. Pass me over, will you?"

She hands the phone to Mitchell and listens to his side of the conversation. It's not much, just a lot of "yes sirs" and one word sentences that mean next to nothing to her. To the Colonel, however, they seem to mean everything, and when he flips the phone shut, he looks at her. "We're going to ground for now. The Canadians have a safe house for us."

Elizabeth nods and rests her head against the seat. "This wasn't what I came to Ottawa for."

He smiles faintly, surprising her by rubbing her shoulder. "Next trip will be better."

She looks at him. "How's that?"

"It'll be for the rebuilding," he nods at the burning city. "They're scared now, but guaranteed, they're mad as hell by morning."

~

"So, you like the place?" Alana asks, smiling at her from the computer screen. She's sporting a butterfly bandage over her eye and the gash on her cheek has been neatly stitched closed. "Comfortable?"

Sore, Elizabeth rolls her shoulders and nods. "For the most part," she sighs, listening to Mitchell puttering around in the kitchen. "Are you all right?"

"I'll live," Alana nods.

"What about your family?"

"They're okay," she smiles. "I'm from Nova Scotia, remember? My family is well out of the line of fire." She shuffles through papers. "Casualty lists are still coming in, but we're looking at about twenty thousand dead so far."

"My god," Elizabeth closes her eyes. She doesn't want to think about what the D.C. list will look like. "The Prime Minister?"

"Alive," Alana reports. "But that was luck. The bomb meant for the House of Commons didn't go off." She smiles grimly. "The Mounties are still trying to figure out why."

"You would have been better off if Canada hadn't joined the committee," Elizabeth says.

"I doubt it," Alana shrugs. "We've known about the Gate from the beginning, we supply personnel to Cheyenne Mountain." She looks faintly amused. "We lay dubious claim to Rodney McKay. For that alone they probably wanted to see us burn in hell, and I doubt they're alone on that one."

Elizabeth chuckles and nods, "This doesn't feel real," she says, fingernail tracing a scratch on the oak desk. "I can't comprehend it." The footage from D.C., and the other cities, has been dominating every news network. She's heard the speech from the UN Secretary General so many times she can quote it, has listened to the various Security Council members spouting off, and through all of it, has been surprised by one thing. Everyone is studiously avoiding any mention of the Stargate.

"Me either," Alana says. "Why don't they just say it outright? If they're willing to attack the IOA, and the capitals of its member countries, why the hell don't they just come right out and tell the world what they want?"

"Why don't they just come right out and tell us?" Elizabeth wonders. "As far as I know, there's been no word from them yet."

"Not that I've heard," Alana shakes her head. "This isn't over, Elizabeth. They're not done yet."

"O'Neill thinks they're waiting to see what we'll do," Elizabeth doesn't disagree with him, "whether we'll fire back on them." She suspects if they do, then China's next response will be nuclear weapons. "It's going to get a lot worse unless we can do something to stop it."

"The question is what?" Alana looks grim. "Canada certainly has no nuclear weapons, and I'm not sure we'd be willing to use them even if we did. That's a dangerous escalation, and worse, they don't have to stop there. Does China have any Naquada resources yet?"

"Oh my god," Elizabeth straightens up, remembering in an instant Naquada's explosive yield. "They wouldn't –"

"I don't know," Alana murmurs. "I hope not." She looks at her watch. "Elizabeth, I have to go, I've got a briefing with the Prime Minister." She looks at her. "When we're done –"

"We'll talk," Elizabeth agrees. "We've got a lot of things to decide."

Alana nods and then she's gone.

As if he's been waiting outside, Mitchell walks into the room and puts a cup of hot chocolate down in front of her. He grins. "Would you believe we're in Canada and I couldn't find the coffee?"

She rolls her eyes, but drinks deep anyway. "This is better," she says. She needs the chocolate. "Did you get through to the SGC?"

He nods. "The Chinese haven't responded to us. Not that there's any doubt it was them." He hitches a hip onto the edge of the desk. He's showered and changed, wearing a t-shirt bearing the insignia of the Canadian Armed Forces. It looks surreal and she suppresses the irrational urge to giggle. He looks like he's gone native. "The Russians are going to try to talk to them under the banner of former Communist allies and all that shit."

Elizabeth smiles and pushes a hand through her hair, wincing when she brushes the bump with her fingers. "Tell me some good news?"

"The Cubans are behaving themselves," he says immediately. "Hell, Castro's offering help. Frankly, they're being so nice it's worrying; they've done everything, but send us a couple boxes of cigars. Honestly, I think that's what the President's hoping for." He waggles his brows. "The guy's known for liking his Cubans, we just all thought he meant the women."

She snorts hot chocolate through her nose. "You're terrible," she tells him.

"You needed to laugh," he smiles at her. "This'll get better, Elizabeth."

"Before this is over, the casualties could run into the millions, Cameron," she says, calling him by his name for the first time. "_Millions_."

"And if they do, it isn't your fault." His hand closes around hers, holding it tight. The contact is steadying and she squeezes back, hanging on like he's the only lifeline she's got. "It was a mistake to bring them into this, not with the current political situation."

"We didn't have a choice," Elizabeth says. "They knew too much."

"And look what they did with it," Cameron frowns.

"We need to find a way to stop them," she mumbles, recalling her earlier conversation with Alana. "There has to be something we can do."

"Right now," he tells her, "we wait."

~

She dreams of her townhouse in flames, wakes up screaming at the feeling of the fire licking at her skin. Cameron's there in a heartbeat, chest and feet bare, gun in his hand. "Elizabeth?" he says, free hand brushing over her hair and face. "Honey, you okay?"

Shaking, she pushes the lingering dream out of her mind and looks at him. The moonlight's filtering through the window and his eyes are wide with worry, taking in the sight of her. She can almost see her reflection in his gaze. "Bad dream," she says, smiling sheepishly.

He relaxes, putting the gun on the nightstand. "Guess we'll all be having those for a while." He sinks down onto the edge of the bed, resting his hand on hers. "Want to tell me about it?"

Elizabeth shakes her head. "Not really." She looks down at their hands and sighs. "You know what the really crazy thing is?"

"There's just one?" he says, a grin in his voice.

"Just one at the moment," she clarifies with a chuckle. "The really crazy thing is I keep thinking about the fact we never got to go to that Thai restaurant and wondering if it's still there."

"Oh it is," he says confidently. "He's been prepared for Chinese attack for years." He sneaks a little smirk at her. "You know how many competitors have gone under since he opened? Hell, that's probably what all this is about. We should check with Thailand, see if they've been attacked too."

Elizabeth giggles. "You're terrible," she tells him again.

"See, you keep saying that," Cameron smiles at her. "But I don't think you believe it."

She looks at him and smiles, reaching out to brush fingers over his jaw. "I don't." She thinks she should feel guilty about this, about having even a moment of happiness when she's at the heart of so much misery.

She kisses him anyway.

~

Cameron surges into the kiss like a drowning man chasing salvation and she thinks that maybe that's it. Maybe that's what they're both doing, but it isn't enough to make her stop and she reaches between them, grabbing at the t-shirt she'd worn to bed. He breaks contact with her mouth long enough to help her pull it over her head. It goes sailing over their heads to land somewhere in the room, lost in the darkness.

With it out of the way, her mouth finds his again, lips sliding together as his fingertips trace patterns over the skin of her sides. She shivers beneath the touch, feeling gooseflesh raise, and then laughs when those fingers find the clasp of her bra. In a matter of seconds, it falls loosely on her shoulders and she pulls back to grin at him. "An expert, hmm?"

He tilts his head, echoing her grin. "I don't like to brag but –"

Elizabeth wrinkles her nose at him and then pushes him backward onto the bed. He goes willingly, pulling her with him as he falls. Their legs tangle together as they land and his hands work their way down her back, thumbs hooking into her underwear. They take their time, the desperation of earlier fading into curious exploration as their tongues meet and slide together. Cameron's fingers stroke lazily along her panty line, making Elizabeth rub against him. He groans, low and pleased, and she's smug at the sound.

He's hard against her and she shifts her weight, stroking over him, eager to tease that sound from him again. Cameron seems to guess what she's up to and Elizabeth finds herself on her back, listening to the sound of rain beginning to fall against the roof as he slides her underwear from her body. Shifting in anticipation, she sighs when he guides her legs apart with his hands and settles between them.

She sees him flick a curious glance at her before his head lowers. Tensing, she waits for that first touch of his tongue and closes her eyes when it glances over her clit. "Tease," she complains with a breathless laugh.

He grins against her and she grabs for the bed sheets when his tongue traces along her. "Yep," he says, lips brushing her when he speaks.

Elizabeth thinks about hitting him in frustration, but then he slides a finger inside at the same moment he sucks on her clit. She cries out, arching up. There's something to be said for teasing, she decides when she settles back down. He doesn't give her a chance to rest long, his mouth moving over her again as he adds a second finger. When they move, sliding into her with a lazy, teasing pace, she presses her head back into the bed and tries to hold on.

He rises up suddenly, grinning at her wickedly in the dark, and leans over to suck a nipple into his mouth. He toys with it, his fingers still moving, and she doesn't stand a chance. She comes with a breathless cry as her body happily leaps into satisfaction.

"Hang on a second," Cameron says, pulling away from her before she's truly even come down from the high.

The departure is so swift she sits up with a shocked look on her face to stare at him, "I'm sorry, _what_?"

He grins over his shoulder and starts rifling through the nightstand. "Just wait," he insists.

It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to assemble the pieces and realize what he's doing. When she does, Elizabeth drops her head back onto the bed and groans. "I forgot," she says in frustration.

"Well, it's not like we were planning this," he chuckles. "But I gotta say, Doc, if you went and bribed China into starting the apocalypse so you could jump my bones? I'm going to be pretty damn flattered."

She laughs. "You wish, soldier."

He snickers and then makes a triumphant sound, turning with a condom in hand. "Knew they'd come through for us." He opens the little packet and sneaks a grin at her. "My Granddad was part of Ferry Command, flew out of Montreal." Condom on, he slides over her again, "You should _hear _those stories."

Elizabeth shakes her head. "No thank you," she tells him.

"Oh, they're good," he promises. "Course, I'm better."

She opens her mouth to call him on it, but then Cameron's sliding into her and he's really not bragging. Instead of speaking, she turns to kiss his neck, mouth working her way over the sweat-slick skin until she finds a place that brings a strangled grunt of pleasure from him. She tests it; moving away and coming back to get him make the same noise, thrusting into her at the same time.

She pushes up against him, her hands skimming over his arms and up to his shoulders. He hides his face against her shoulder, his own mouth sucking at the skin he finds there. She hangs on when he shifts, working a hand between them to find her clit. Body still sensitized from her earlier orgasm, Elizabeth happily lets herself get swept away.

They both need this and she's only too happy to take him with her.

~

"You look better," Alana tells her in the morning. "Sleep well?"

On the other side of the desk, Cameron smirks into his coffee cup. For her part, Elizabeth curls her toes into the rug beneath her and hopes it's not written all over her face. "Not entirely," she says, telling the truth. "But I managed to get a few good hours."

Two, if she's being precise, she and Cameron didn't really slow down until almost dawn. "What about you?" she asks, thanking God her conference call with the President was done by phone. There's a hint of a grin playing at Alana's mouth that shouldn't be there. "You seem better?"

"Work helps," Alana tells her. "They've started clean up in the city. It'll be a while before we know the full extent of the damage, but Parliament's in session anyway. Emergency session."

Elizabeth straightens. "How much will the Prime Minister tell them?"

"Nothing," Alana says. "She briefed the heads of the opposition parties this morning. That's all they get, the other MPs aren't going to be told much beyond the fact we're aware of the potential reasons behind the attack."

"Not so potential anymore," Elizabeth says. "By now the Prime Minister should have been briefed, I just got off the phone with the President." She watches

Alana stiffen, her posture tightening up. "The Chinese have demanded the United States surrender control of the Stargate." She smiles wryly. "Actually, they've demanded the United States surrender control of the Stargate, the Daedalus, the Odyssey and the Prometheus. Effective immediately."

"Or else," Alana finishes.

"Or else," Elizabeth agrees.

Cameron snorts and gets up, grabbing her empty coffee mug as he goes. "We need more if we're going to listen to this shit," he mutters.

Both women snicker and lean forward, looking at each other. "So, we know the answer to the demand is going to be fuck you," Alana says dryly. "I'm guessing the President's speechwriter is drafting something to that effect."

Elizabeth nods. "Of a sort," she agrees and bites her lip. "It's actually going to say that the governments of the United States, Canada, France, and England will be doing nothing of the sort. That we will be, in short order, drafting an agreement to finalize plans for the administration of the Stargate program from here on out and, for the foreseeable future, China will not be invited to the table. The statement will emphasize the fact we are cognizant of the fact that the actions that have been taken by the current administration do not reflect the feelings of the government, nor the population, of the country. Until the situation in China changes, however, they'll have no say in anything relating to the Stargate."

Alana blinks, "Did the Pentagon actually agree to this?"

With a laugh, Elizabeth shakes her head. "No, but the President and the Senate committee in charge of the Program's oversight told them to shut the fuck up. We've all paid the same price for this, Alana, and the President knows what the reaction will be if the US keeps the chokehold on the Program it has now."

"Point," Alana agrees. Neither of them needs to elaborate on what kind of resentment would breed among the other countries. "I'm sure the Prime Minister will have no complaints, but the Chinese –"

"Will go postal," Cameron finishes, sitting down next to Elizabeth and handing her the coffee.

"Good morning, Colonel," Alana says, grinning at him. "Sleep well?"

"About as good as the Doc," he agrees. "So, I'm guessing the President is waiting on you two to come up with a suggestion about what to do before the Chinese nuke us all."

Elizabeth looks at her coffee and then asks, "Which one of the ships is in orbit?"

"Prometheus and Odyssey are up there," Cameron says. "Daedalus is making the Atlantis run."

On the screen, Alana's smile fades. "_Elizabeth._"

"Do we have a choice?" Elizabeth asks sharply, looking at her. "A real choice? We both know where this is going to go, Alana. The attacks were just a warning shot and what comes next –"

"I know," Alana agrees and looks away. "I'll speak to the Prime Minister."

The screen goes dark and Elizabeth releases a breath. "What did I just do?" she asks, looking at Cameron.

"You did what you had to do, Elizabeth," he says quietly, "you did the right thing."

"It doesn't feel like it," she puts her coffee down; rubbing her hands along the borrowed pants she's wearing.

"It's not supposed to."   
~

Within hours of the statement being sent to Beijing, the Chinese retaliate with a nuclear strike.

The missiles don't make it to their targets. They're beamed away into space by the Prometheus and Odysessy.   
~

Beijing is a smoking crater by mid-afternoon.

~

The next time Elizabeth sees Alana, they're back at the SGC. Standing with Cameron in the briefing room, they watch the new IOA members as they follow O'Neill into the Gate Room. Cuts have faded into scars and if not for the IOA, and the casual touches which pass between Elizabeth and Cameron, there would be no sign anything had happened.

"It still feels surreal," Elizabeth says, feeling Cameron's hand brush hers. "It feels like the others are going to come walking in at any moment."

Alana sighs. "I wish." She looks over. "Who did the Chinese send?"

"No one yet," Elizabeth says, watching the fledging committee members with interest. "The new Chairman didn't feel it was appropriate yet, and he doesn't want to take the risk of sending someone affiliated with the previous administration."

"Skeletons in the closet, huh?" Cameron murmurs.

"Something to that effect," she nods. "It's too soon to be here, the wounds are still too fresh. He knows that when they're ready, they'll be welcome, but they aren't there yet."

"I'm not sure we're ready to see them here either," Alana says honestly.

"I know we're not," Cameron says. "Too many people died for something they knew they wouldn't get."

Elizabeth smiles sadly, thinking of Chen. She didn't deserve what her government did to her and Elizabeth finds herself almost missing her. "Something that can be said about most of Earth's wars, past and future. We never seem to learn." She thinks of their recommendation, of the orbital assault on Beijing, and the resulting casualties. It shouldn't have happened, and she'll go to her grave wondering if they did the right thing. Recalling something she read in the SGC's mission reports, she says, "We have a lot of growing up to do."

"Maybe so," Cameron looks at her. "But at least we'll have the chance to do it."


End file.
